Caught in the Act
by blogyourfeelings
Summary: Sherlock and Molly get caught in a compromising position. Hilarity ensues.


As she falls backwards, hands clutching dark curls, breathing heavily from feverish kisses, Molly feels the tickle of grass at the back of her legs the exact moment warm lips trail kisses down her exposed neck.

"Sherlock, we can't do this here," She pants. She tugs at his hair to pull him away from her flushed skin. He pulls back a little, leaning up on his arms, his blue eyes glaring in the dim lamplight.

"Why not?" Sherlock grumbles, annoyed at the being stopped from lavishing kisses on her.

"Because we're in a public park!" She exclaims, hands flying in to the air. "There's a children swing park right over there for Christ sake!"

"Well luckily it's far too late for any of them to be here," Sherlock drawls out, his determined gazed fixed on the pinkness of her lips. "Too late for dog walkers and this park does not have a reputation for frequenting drug users."

"My flat is five minutes away," Molly breathes out, trying to give one last futile excuse, as Sherlock's hand trails up the outside of her bare leg and under her dress. London's recent heat wave had been advantageous in more ways than one.

His hand reaches further up as his heated gaze burns in to her. He places a gentle kiss on her neck. His voice rumbles in the darkness. "Can't wait that long."

Sherlock does not wait for her response, claiming his lips with hers. One hand grips at her hair and the hand that had been tracing her thigh now yanks at her lacy pants. Molly encourages him with a loud moan of approval, her mind lost to her surroundings, and completely focused on the man on top of her. Sherlock stuffed her pants in his coat pocket, smirking in triumph against her lips. Molly, unable to allow him total victory, wedges her hand between them to palm the growing bulge in Sherlock's trouser. Sherlock groans in her mouth, and spurn on by her actions, hikes up the skirt of her dress.

He fumbles when removing his trouser and boxers, clumsily pulling them down in haste. His hurried kisses and demanding hands tell her that this will be hard and fast- which given where they are is for the best. They will have plenty of time back at her flat for foreplay- to explore each other bodies with soft kisses and gentle touches. At this moment- all Molly wants is the ecstasy of him inside her, for them to come together and fall apart in a series of thrusts.

Sherlock is on the cusp of giving her what she wants when a glaring, white torch light shines on their exposed bodies. Sherlock Holmes has always had a habit of missing things- and Molly has a distinct feeling it's about to get her in a lot trouble.

—

Sherlock had mentioned to Molly that no drug users littered her local park. What he had not taken into consideration was _**why**__._

"Nightly police patrols, of course," Sherlock mutters in the back of the police car, to himself or to her, Molly cannot quite tell. Either way, she shoots him a furious look.

Really for a man who claimed to be a genius he is incredibly ill-equipped when dealing with other people. Normally people caught by the police in a compromising position would have looked embarrassed or coy, stumbled out a well meant, pleading apology. Not Sherlock, no, he had decided to comment on the male police officer's recent divorce and lack of ability with women.

That got them both cuffed, thrown into the back of a police car and taken to the station. At least the woman officer there had smiled apologetically, which Molly soon had to return when they were taken to the cells and split, and Sherlock had reacted with disdained insults and angry protests.

She sat in a cell block for hours and hours, listening to the shrieks and shouts of the Friday night drunks being chucked into cells for the night. She had to laugh a little at the ridiculousness of the night's events. Only Sherlock had this innate ability to cloud her judgement, to lose the inhibitions she clung to in her university years.

Their new, budding relationship brought an unadulterated joy to her life like nothing before ever had. The secretive nature of their relationship- they hadn't even told Mary and John about them yet- was all part of thrill of being with him. Sneaked kisses in the morgue, sly smiles that the others didn't notice, takeaways in her flat and private dinners at fancy restaurants like the one he'd treated her to tonight.

When another officer flung open the door hours later, Molly thought, _**hoped**_, that Sherlock had called in a favour. Alas no, she's dragged into what is clearly an interview room with her so called 'partner in crime'.

They were left there alone for a while, each cuffed to the table in front of them. Sherlock had leaned down so he could adopt his thinking pose. "Are they planning on questioning us?" Molly asks when silence grows to be too much for her frayed nerves. She's spent a whole night in a cold cell, _knickerless_ and she's pretty much at her breaking point.

"I don't know," Sherlock mutters back, not even turning back to face her.

His lack of response leaves her colder than the steel cell. "I'm sorry for getting us arrested Molly," She mock-imitates him, fuelled by his lack of concern about this situation. "Don't worry about it Sherlock, I love spending the night in cells with you."

"You were willing participant in the crime," He fires back, his mouth set in a thin line.

"I wasn't the one who mouthed off to a police officer," Molly snaps back, her cuffs stopping her from crossing her arms in annoyance.

They would have been left to a stormy silence for hours had it not been for the arrival of a certain police detective and army doctor. Sherlock groans as soon as the door is swung open to reveal to their two smug, grinning friends.

"I thought getting you out after John's stag party was the highlight of my life," Greg greets, his teeth gleaming in the harsh lighting of the room. "But this is better."

Greg moves to unlock Molly's cuff but makes no effort to do the same for Sherlock.

"How long has this been going on for?" John inquires, his eyes alight with amusement. Sherlock gazes back at him blankly while Molly appears to find the table in front of her very interesting. John lets out a deep chuckle. "Indecent exposure in a public place. Just when I thought you couldn't surprise me."

Greg laughs heartily along with him. "You better get your stories straight, because the reporters waiting outside are going to want details."

Molly makes her first real reaction, a distressed moan that has Sherlock reeling around to face her. "Oh god," She cries, her face flushing, her free hands trembling. "If this gets into the press, my family-"

She chokes on her own thought, of her lovely teenage cousins who admire her, of her kind uncle who helped her so much, reading vile, exaggerated press stories. Her hands cover her face to disguise the tears that are building, the sick feeling in her stomach rising.

"Uncuff me," Sherlock demands to a now solemn looking pair. Greg follows his order, seemingly chastised by the reactions to his teasing.

Once he's released from his cuffs he shifts closer to Molly, not quite touching her, but observing her face closely. He glances back up to Greg and John. "Have they identified Molly? He asks, concern for her his first priority.

Greg leaps at the opportunity to deliver good news. "No, not yet. Someone just told them you were here. Probably the same person who told me."

Sherlock gives an angry hum of agreement, thinking about the choice words he liked to say to the fat, balding man who'd arrested them.

"Greg and I will go out the front and deal with the journalists," He told her, softness in his voice and in the tender way he was stroking the hair at the back of her head. "John will go out the back entrance with you and no one will see you."

Molly only sniffles in reply. Greg and John nod resolutely in their agreement to the plan, eager to help their clearly distressed friends.

"Molly, look at me," Sherlock pleads, though he manages to rein back his desperation in front of John and Greg. Brown, red rimmed eyes shift up to him, so soulful and beautiful that he has to fight the urge to kiss her. "I am sorry about this," He apologises sheepishly. He can't resist placing a small kiss on her temple.

She softens, smiling at him slightly as she wipes away any traces of tears of her cheeks. "I suppose I can forgive you," She concedes, reach over to squeeze his hand. Her plan is pull her hand straight back as not to be too affectionate in front of John and Greg, but he refuses to let her go, gripping her hand tightly.

"Phone my brother and arrange a car for John and Molly," He orders Greg, who's has emotions have transformed from amusement to concern to indignation in the matter of minutes.

"Wait a minute. We're not getting charged for anything then?" Molly asks, confused eyes going from Sherlock to the pair standing in front of them.

"No, that pathetic excuse for a police man arrested me for the sheer pleasure of it," He bites out. His fist clenches in Molly's hand as he adds, "He put you in the cells just to upset me further." Sherlock sighs through his nose, as if to dispel his anger and fires a pointed gaze at Greg. "You should phone my brother just now. What time is it? 6?" Sherlock's mouth widens in sardonic smile, leaning back into a relaxed position as John nods. "Perfect. Just in time for his morning run."

Greg lets out a sigh of exasperation, John can only shake his head in disbelief. Only Sherlock Holmes could get caught with his pants down and look so damn pleased about it.

—

Hours later, Molly and John sneak out the station into a covert car provided by Mycroft, unbothered by the snarls of the swarming reporters out front. Sherlock gives Molly a parting gift- a pink pair of pants- much to her own embarrassment and John's mild disgust. Sherlock and Greg were not so lucky with the journalists- Sherlock finds it difficult not to snap at the onslaught of insipid questions, but manages to bite him tongue.

"You and Molly then, eh?" Greg exclaims jovially, as they speed away from the station. The police detective gives a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows to receive a roll of the eyes from Sherlock. Sherlock eyes become intrigued by the London streets, and Greg's grin widens, because they must be serious if Sherlock is being this coy. Once Greg combined that with Sherlock's obvious need to protect her, and the delicate way in which he touched her, he didn't need to be a police inspector to wager that _**Sherlock Holmes was in love.**_

And, the consulting seemed in no effort to hide it, breezing in to Baker Street to find Molly and his best friend waiting at the stairs for his arrival.

"You okay?" He questioned Molly, cupping her face in his large hands.

"Fine," She insists, beaming up at him, despite her tiredness. She yawned. "I need a shower and sleep."

"I think I can arrange that," He replies, his voices growing deeper.

John's face screws up at the alien, suggestive tone of his best's friends voice. He's about to open his mouth to make some sort of joke, to tease them now the tension at the station has been elevated, but Mrs Hudson opens her door to intercede.

"Sherlock Holmes, what have you been up to now?" She shouts, waving a newspaper in her hands.

"I'll explain later, Mrs Hudson," He assures, grabbing Molly's hand to drag her up the stairs. Molly at least shoots Greg and John a grateful smile before departing with him.

Mrs Hudson's worried gaze falls between Greg and John for sort of explanation. "What on earth is going on?"

"Mrs H," Greg sighs, signally they should head into Mrs Hudson's for a chat. He puts his arm around the elderly women's shoulder, smiling down at her wide eyed expression. A delighted squeak resounds above them, followed by a warm chuckle and a bang. Greg moves to hurry Mrs Hudson into her small flat, John right behind them, as the tell-tale noises grew in volume. "You don't want to know."

The pair of them peak at Mrs Hudson's paper as she makes them a well earned cup of coffee, the bold, black title screaming for their attention. Greg and John laugh, an altogether happy, amazed noise accompanied by shakes of their heads as the read the newspaper headline that will be visible all across London today.

_**DIRTY DETECTIVE AT IT AGAIN! Lothario detective Sherlock Holmes found in compromising position with mystery female...**_


End file.
